A Raven's Wing
by WaqueKoala 2.0
Summary: "Destiny marches, like any man." As the demon bowed down to him, under the control of a child who knew nothing but pain.


**Prologue: The Foiled Assassination**

**A/N: Plot points taken from the Blackpowder Plot from Swain's Lore in League of Legends, maybe updated if I can. Takes place a few years in the future. Some of the unchanged names are just found here in this one shot.**

He arrived at the office building only moments before the strategy meeting was to begin, flanked by a the police, each handpicked from the government themselves. They remained at the entrance as I watched him approach.

Some men cast a shadow greater than themselves, but few could bring a darkness such as this, one that circled above us and hungrily cawed. In a way, the ravens that seemed to follow him around evry mission he had were a grim reminder of every villain's fate, the tattered cloth in their beaks a match for the state of our own selves. Yet, as he strode into the building, I realized I had not prepared myself for how truly mortal he looked.

There was grey in his green hair, framed by a crimson sky choking on ash. His battle-worn hero costume gave way to a functional coat, and he kept his arms tightly within its folds—as I imagined one of his lineage might. I smiled, for he was still, at his heart, a gentleman. He wore no signs of rank beyond the telltale scars of a underground hero who had seen his share of bloodshed. There were many gathered now for the meeting who demanded more fear and respect, swaying their quirks with powerful displays of strength. Each of them seemed more than capable of breaking the man before us.

But, somehow, this was the man who led us all. The Elusive Number One Hero.

Looking at him, I could feel there was something I could not place, no matter how closely I looked. Something truly unknowable, perhaps? Perhaps it was because there was something unknowable about this man, that so many flocked to his side. Whatever the draw, Izuku Midoriya stood before us now, and it was far too late for me to turn back.

Five heroes had marched onto the UA Academy, but it had been only a matter of weeks before the villains had shattered our positions. They blasted through our hastily-constructed tactics with explosive powder, mined from hills that seemed even more barren than those of home. Disaster had built upon disaster, until Midoriya himself had no choice but to intervene. I had made sure of that.

For months, I had prepared. I had sent my _allies_ deep into the school building. I had mapped every detail, every conceivable twist of the land… and the fates upon which Japan now balanced, the whispers that gave each moment shape…

My ear itched at the memory of the faceless man's words. Of the moment he first commanded me, and gave voice to our plot.

Everything was in place. I had accounted for it all. Here, where the building opened into a maze of rooms and offices impossible to escape, I and I alone would determine the future of the country.

After all, was that not what Midoriya had called upon this meeting to do?

"My fellow heroes," Swain said finally. The power in his voice rang out like the drawing of a blade. He paused, as if giving us a moment to test ourselves against its keen edge. "Tell me how Japan's Heroes may prevail."

"There are twelve choke points here, in the city," Leto began, pointing to a spot on the map in the screen already worn white by his attention, "each lead by those vigilantes you called upon. Send them before the remaining heroes, and we'll be marching over the terrorists dead. Those fools would rut with a hedge of rusty spears if we let them."

He smiled, pleased at his own cunning, but Midoriya was more concerned with the wine being poured into his glass.

Will it be poison? his eyes seemed to ask, as he peered around the table. I stared at my reflection in his armor. I would betray nothing of my intent.

"We can scarcely control the vigilantes ourselves," Swain finally murmured, carefully regarding the fine Italian vintage. "Imagine even a single villain, dropped by a sapper within earshot of the vigilantes. And then tell me, in your imagination, who runs first—the vigilantes with their idiocy between their heads? Or your vaunted sidekicks?"

"We scorch the city," Maela petitioned before Leto could respond, the words flying wildly from her mouth. "Set fire to the said hideouts they've laid to burn on our advance. Drive them out of these damned city."

Midoriya sighed. "We came here for the very earth you would burn. Though I suppose it is too much to expect you to know the uses of saltpetre." He swirled the wine in his glass, betraying a hint of disappointment. "All you have done so far is bury your own men with it."

"Endeavor's sidekicks are still sharp," Jonat spat impatiently from the shadows where he lurked, the darkness seeming almost bright against his dark skin. "We'll enter their hiding spots after dusk, take out their leaders. Clean or messy. Doesn't matter."

"An admirable strategy," Midoriya laughed. "But those leaders are not affiliated with themselves. Not yet. Our enemy here merely follows whomever bellows the loudest. Kill one, and there will be three bellowing by morning."

I laughed, nodding to the frowning fool. "For a moment, I was afraid you'd find a way for us to actually win, Jonat."

Silence fell around the table. The candles were burning low beside the maps.

This was my moment. The pale woman would be pleased. I would say her name as I sent our Number One Hero to oblivion.

"The truth is, you cannot win this battle," I continued. "No one can fight death. Not even the ruler of the League of Villains. All for One showed us that."

Midoriya and the others watched as I carefully drew the bomb's trigger from my tunic. The timer was already in my other hand. Leto, aging English Hero, bristled.

"Granth, what are you doing?" he growled, glancing down at the crude demolition charge I had carefully positioned under the table, barely an hour before. "You would threaten the Number One Hero of Japan? This is treason against your own country."

Still, none of them dared approach me. I held the striker over the fuse, ready.

Except… someone was laughing. It took me a moment to realize who it was.

"And there, Mr. Granth is the only one who has the right of it," Midoriya chuckled, smoothing this wrinkles from his coat. "He alone understands. The rest of you, you see a battle and ask what you must do to avoid defeat. But some battles cannot be won. Sometimes, the only strategy is to burn. To charge into the flames, knowing full well you will die, but that twenty thousand march behind you. And that behind them, there is a greater power."

He let his coat fall open, to reveal… To… reveal…

"Granth and I," he said with a cruel smile, "we always look for what must be sacrificed in order to win."

Maela lunged for my trembling hands. Leto too. But it was Midoriya's inhuman grip that clamped around my throat, hefting me from the ground, the unlit fuse forgotten.

"If only you could tell her yourself how you failed," the Number One Hero whispered, his voice rumbling with the wrath of eons. "If only he, too, could heed the wisdom of the dead."

I tried to scream then, to confess it all. To somehow beg for forgiveness.

But there is nothing now, save for the soft murmur of whispers. I spill my secrets, this tale, into your ears. Fading like the rustling of wings, as the raven cries its carrion caw…


End file.
